


already there

by elliebell (Naladot)



Category: Day6 (Band), GOT7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Communication, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naladot/pseuds/elliebell
Summary: If relationships are about communication, sometimes Wonpil feels like he and Jinyoung don't even speak the same language. But that doesn't stop him from trying to say everything that's in his heart.
Relationships: Kim Wonpil/Park Jinyoung (GOT7)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: JYP JUKEBOX ROUND 2: OF MONSTERS AND MEN





	already there

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JYP Jukebox Round 2 and inspired by "Silhouettes" by Of Monsters and Men.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Wonpil startles awake and opens his eyes to Jinyoung’s face above him. His hand is on Wonpil’s shoulder, and he gives it another shake, then pulls the covers down, exposing Wonpil’s bare chest to the cold air in the room. Wonpil shivers.

“You’ve got a schedule at ten, don’t you?” Jinyoung asks, moving back across the room. Wonpil sits up and watches him do the buttons on his dress shirt, one after another, fast and precise. Everything Jinyoung does is fast and precise, unless he wants to savor it. Then he moves so slowly, his eyes lingering, contemplating things Wonpil can only guess.

“I’ve got one at eleven,” Jinyoung continues.

Wonpil forces himself out from beneath the mountains of covers. Jinyoung tosses him his sweatshirt from across the room.

“No time for beauty sleep,” Jinyoung says, with a smile that might be fake, or unhappy, or both, or neither. 

To Wonpil, Jinyoung is too often an unsolvable equation.

  
  
  


They aren’t dating.

Well—they might be dating, or whatever term you use when your relationship with your best friend makes a sharp but not particularly unexpected turn into romance, and you don’t tell anyone.

Sometimes Wonpil wonders what would happen if he told someone.

  
  
  


They stand in front of the mirror, brushing their teeth in sync. Is it the years of trainee life that makes them do things in sync? Or are they so perfectly matched? And if they are perfectly matched, will they eventually repel, like two matched sides of magnets?

Jinyoung leans over the sink to spit. Wonpil follows.

  
  
  


“Let me help,” Jinyoung says as Wonpil starts to do up the buttons on his own shirt.

Jinyoung’s fingers move slowly. First the button at the bottom, and then the next. His fingertips skim Wonpil’s stomach as he reaches for the next button. Wonpil watches Jinyoung concentrate on the process, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s savoring this, well aware that Wonpil falls apart under this kind of attention.

He finishes the top button and his fingers linger against Wonpil’s throat, then brush across his jaw. “All done,” he says, staring at Wonpil’s lips.

“Do you have to do that?” Wonpil asks in a thin voice.

Jinyoung looks at him. “I just want you,” he says, half-joking, but it’s the most honest thing he’s said in the last twenty-four hours, and Wonpil is most weak to Jinyoung’s vulnerability. He kisses him. Savors it.

Jinyoung leans away first. “We don’t have time,” he says, holding up his watch.

  
  
  


It’s always like this. This is the one constant in a series of  _ sometimes. _ They meet, Wonpil goes home and lies to his band members about where he’s been, and Jinyoung goes on stage and flirts with his. It’s not Jinyoung’s fault that Wonpil doesn’t have to sell the aura of romantic chemistry as part of his job—unless you count annoying Jae, but that’s hardly the same thing—but that doesn’t mean Wonpil’s all that happy about the way Jinyoung stares at his band members with sparkles in his eyes. 

(“I’m not sleeping with them though, am I?” Jinyoung said once, like this made it all better. Wonpil never brought it up again.)

He watches a whole bunch of fancams in succession, and wonders to himself if Jinyoung has ever looked at him the way he looks at everyone else. He’s sure that he’s never looked at anyone else the way he looks at Jinyoung, but that’s his problem, isn’t it? Everything he feels just bursts out of him, volcanic, unmanageable. And Jinyoung is the opposite, totally controlled, all his emotions shut up tight until he wants you to take a look. 

Maybe they’re not as in sync as Wonpil thinks.

  
  
  


Wonpil’s schedule takes an hour of hair and makeup for two hours at a television station where they play a handful of songs and Brian charms everyone, Sungjin makes a nice little speech, Jae makes several jokes in succession that don’t make sense, and Dowoon doesn’t talk until they’re back in the van, where he talks incessantly, without stopping to breathe. Business as usual.

When Wonpil looks at his phone in the van, he’s got one text from Jinyoung, but it’s a link to a sale on a BB Cream, and nothing else.

  
  
  


Later, Wonpil walks into the living room where Jae and Brian are watching something on the television.

“It’s a _Star Wars_ show,” Jae says, pausing it. “You wanna watch?”

“Nah,” says Wonpil. He’s not in the mood.

Jae and Brian exchange a look that probably means something, but Wonpil isn’t going to ask.

Jae hits play. There’s a tiny green alien on the screen, with wide, fathomless eyes.

“Wonpil reminds me of Baby Yoda,” Jae says.

“Oh my god,” Brian says. “You’re right.”

Wonpil looks at the adorable creature on the television, and wants to scream.

  
  
  


He leaves the apartment in a rush, and appears outside Jinyoung’s apartment almost without knowing how he’s gotten there. He rings the doorbell until Jinyoung’s voice, thick with sleep, crackles over the intercom.

“Wonpil?”

“Let me in,” Wonpil demands.

  
  
  


Jinyoung was Wonpil’s first kiss, back in trainee days. At the time, he hadn’t been looking for it. He really hadn’t thought too much about kissing, not enough to make it happen, until it was actually happening—a back street on a rainy evening, the feeling of cold wet finger slipping into his coat pocket to hold his hand, a gentle brush of lips. Who made the first move? Wonpil couldn’t say for sure, and he changed his mind over and over as the years passed by.

“I just don’t know that we should ruin our friendship like this,” Jinyoung had said, later. Three months after that, Got7 debuted.

Wonpil dreamed about the kiss for a long time.

  
  
  
  
  


Jinyoung opens the door. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

Wonpil doesn’t answer until the door closes shut behind him. Then he launches himself at Jinyoung in what he intends to be an aggressive, sexy move, but he chickens out at the last second and presses his lips more or less gently against Jinyoung’s. But Jinyoung’s hands curl into his jacket, so not all is lost.

“What’s going on?” Jinyoung asks as Wonpil leans away.

“I’m not some baby alien!” Wonpil bursts out, which really isn’t what he meant to say.

“Okay—”

“And I’m tired of being treated like that. Like my feelings don’t matter just because I’m—simple, or whatever. I’m not. I’m a grown ass man with big feelings and—why are you looking at me like that?”

Jinyoung has his arms folded across his chest, and he’s looking at him like—well, like you’d look at that adorable baby alien.

“I’m listening.”

“You think I’m being cute,” Wonpil snarls, or tries to.

“I always think you’re cute,” Jinyoung says.

Wonpil rolls his eyes. “I’m  _ trying  _ to tell you—”

“I know,” Jinyoung says. “And I’m sorry.”

Wonpil falls silent. Jinyoung takes him by the hand, and leads him to bed.

  
  
  


In an ideal world, it wouldn’t be so hard to talk. Wonpil would think and Jinyoung would just  _ know _ , and vice-versa. The meeting of hearts would be sufficient to overcome the isolation of the individual mind.

“You know you’re odd, right?” Jinyoung says, when Wonpil tries to explain this. He can’t quite see Jinyoung’s face in the dark.

“Is that a bad thing?” Wonpil asks. In the back of his mind, he can hear Sungjin saying  _ you can’t pout when you don’t hear what you want us to say _ and he thinks it’s good that it’s dark, because he’s definitely pouting now. And if he could see Jinyoung, he knows he'd just say everything that's welling up inside of him, pounding at his chest and trying to get out.

“No,” Jinyoung says, his voice thick. “It’s a good thing.”

  
  
  


After that—

It’s not perfect. Not by any means.

But at the next company dinner, Jinyoung says “you all already know, right?” and holds Wonpil’s hand under the table. Wonpil pointedly ignores the smug looks from his band members.

Sometimes, imperfect is good enough.

_ end. _


End file.
